Where Your Loyalties Lie
by Lizmonster
Summary: Loyalties can be tricky things sometimes, and not everything is as it seems. Hermione soon-to-be-Weasley is proprieter of a failing stationery shop, and Severus is just trying to get on with his life after the War. Throw a Malfoy and some political intrigue into the mix, and things shake up fast!
1. Chapter 1

AN: Anything you recognize belongs to Ms. Rowling and not to me. I'm just borrowing for fun, not profit! Also, I really am not a fan of the final two books of the series, so for me, canon ends at _Order of the Pheonix_. As a result, this fic is non-_HBP _and non-_DH _compliant.

* * *

Chapter One

"Hey 'Mione? Come here and look over these figures for me, will you?"

Hermione sighed and peeled her cheek off of her hand. She had been propped against the counter for so long that the skin made an audible unsticking noise.

"What is it, Gin? Please tell me there's some sort of massive crisis. I could use something, anything. I haven't had a customer all morning. I don't expect people to be pouring in like we're Harrods or something, but still..." Hermione rubbed her temples.

"Have you been standing out there that entire time? You poor thing! I know what we should do. Let's close up the shop and take a long lunch, and after that, we can do a little shopping, hmm?"

Hermione dropped her forehead against a shelf and groaned.

"Stop it, you siren, you foul temptress."

"It's not like we're going to miss anything here..."

"This is a stationery shop! People write all the time! I just don't understand. When we opened three months ago, we were making a profit. Now, it's August. School starts up again next month, so where are all the students buying parchments? Even if they share your study habits, they'll still need a few to get by." Hermione grinned at Ginny, who stuck her tongue out.

"Hey! I did get six NEWTS, you know. That's one more than your precious Ronald, at least."

"Don't even go there, Gin." The Weasley female looked suitably contrite, and Hermione sighed. "Now what did you want me to look at earlier?"

"Oh, the figures. Erm, let's go get some lunch at least. It's half one. We can shut the door against the mad rush for an hour, at least. You don't need to be seeing these on an empty stomach."

"That bad?"

Ginny gulped and nodded. She opened her mouth for a moment, and then she snapped it shut again.

"What? What were you going to say?"

"Well... Look, 'Mione, it's not my place, I know, but don't you think that it might be better in the long run to close up now? You gave it your best. You really did. It's just that people can already buy plain old parchment from Flourish and Blotts down the road. There's not much call for your specialty stuff or the muggle stuff you're trying to introduce either. The only person I've seen buying the funny yellow sideways notebooks with the lines on 'em is my dad."

"Those are legal pads! They're very handy for taking notes and... Well... I don't know. I don't want to give up. I love this shop, I really do. I've put so much into it. I've put so much of them into it. If I close up, part of me feels like I'll lose them all over again. It's silly, I know."

"Listen, your parents would be proud to see what you've done with the inheritance they left you. But some things maybe just aren't meant to be. They'd understand."

"I still have enough of the money left to keep going for about six months more, eight if we scrimp. I can't give up yet."

"Aurors don't make that much, especially not ones with a year left at the academy. What's going to happen when you and Ron get married? Don't you want to save some of your money to put toward a home or the babies, when they come?"

"Babies?" Hermione spluttered. "How did we get to babies?"

"Well, when a mummy and a daddy love each other very much..." Ginny winked, and Hermione chucked a quill at her. "There, I got a smile out of you at least. Just give what I said some thought, okay? I promise I'll drop it for now. Let's go and have a fabulous lunch. There's a little cafe that I'm just dying to try - my treat. And don't fuss. I'll get you back here in time to finish holding the counter up with your elbow for the rest of the afternoon."

* * *

Severus opened the restaurant door, and the aroma of roasting meat immediately tickled his nose. He nodded to himself, feeling his stomach rumble. Lucius may have a list of faults the length of Hogwarts' Great Hall, but the man knew how to pick out some good eats. He scanned the room, but none of the tables or booths had the distinctive silvery-blonde occupant he sought. A Malfoy head would have stood out even in the restaurant's tastefully dim lighting. As if on cue, the maitre d' appeared and seated him in a corner booth.

Severus ordered a bottle of the house wine for the table, a cabernet sauvignon, as per Lucius' recommendation. He was surprised to see that the bottle was not the most expensive one on the menu, but Lucius knew his wines better than he knew his food, which was certainly saying something. When the waiter poured a few sips in the bottom of Severus' glass for his approval, Severus nodded. The Malfoy patriarch had earned Severus' trust again. The wine bloomed with notes of blackcurrant and caramel, and Severus settled back into the plush cushion and nursed his glass contentedly. He scanned his surroundings out of leftover instincts. The dark wood paneling and hunter green tablecloths suited his tastes nicely, and he didn't spot anyone he recognized. He didn't even need to look at the menu. His mouth watered for whatever meat he had smelled upon his entry, and he was confident the server would know just to what he was referring. And perhaps some roasted new potatoes on the side, glistening with olive oil and rosemary leaves... Where was Lucius? Severus was ready to eat!

Severus closed his eyes as he took another sip of his wine as he savored not only the taste. It was a precious privilege to him, to be able to let his guard down in a public place like this. He wasn't completely relaxed —- that he feared he would never be able to accomplish outside of his home. Some lessons took hold too deeply. At the slightest sign of danger, he would still have his wand in his hand faster than most people could blink. But he would have never dared appearing in a restaurant, let alone closing his eyes in one, during the War.

Opening his eyes, Severus let his gaze fix itself on the top of the empty seat in front of him as his mind wandered. It was a few minutes before the heads visible over the back of the seat snapped him back to the present. One was surprisingly bushy, a crown of springy brown curls, and the other on the far side was a coppery red. Severus allowed himself the tiniest of eye-rolls. This was just perfect. Just when he thought he was free of the most famous know-it-all in the land. Hell, he thought he had finally worked his way through all those damned Weasleys for good too.

"Gin, are you sure you can afford a meal here? It's plush!" that all-too-familiar voice said. Severus' eyebrows drew together of their own accord. He was surprised he couldn't see her hand already waving above the tooled mahogany of the bench out of sheer force of nature.

"Haha, I forget sometimes that you don't follow Quidditch. Oliver's team is doing well enough that each match is packed, a full house. Not a spot on the stands doesn't have an arse on it these days. Oliver hasn't let a quaffle through for weeks! His manager just cut the players a big bonus."

"So that explains why you've been so happy lately! Honestly, Ginny, you've been positively glowing. Tell Oliver congratulations from me."

So Ginevra ended up with Oliver Wood... Severus snorted. He had definitely not seen that one coming! Minerva must have been chuffed, that's for sure.

"Well..." Ginny hesitated. "That's not the only thing. I feel bad for sharing this when your shop isn't going so well, but I figured I'd better tell you sooner rather than later. I wanted you to be the first to know. Well, the second, counting Oliver of course!"

Ah yes, Albus did say something about Miss Granger opening up some sort of business in Diagon Alley, although Severus couldn't remember what she sold. Something bookish, that was for sure. At least she was doing something somewhat productive while she wasted the majority of her potential on the Weasley sod. Honestly, Severus was willing to start a betting pool on how fast after they tied the knot that she would end up barefoot and pregnant. So her entrepreneurial efforts weren't going so well... Severus was surprised. With the practical way she planned out her potions, he would have pegged her as a keen mind for business.

"What is it, Gin? You aren't — No!"

"Yes!" The redhead squealed loudly enough that Severus was sure it was illegal. "I'm going to have a baby! It's a girl, according to the Healer at St. Mungo's."

"Congratulations! That's wonderful news. I'm so happy for you!"

Well, Severus was sure as hell not surprised at that. Ginevra got the Weasley brood mare gene, that was for sure. He could only hope that the offspring was a squib. He should have known that there would only be a brief respite before he'd have to see incompetent redheads bobbing over his cauldrons once more.

"Thank you, Aunty 'Mione! I'm sure you'll have her swimming in books before she can even sit up on her own."

"You can count on it!"

"But... I wanted to tell you this as soon as I found out. I'm about two months along. That gives you seven months to find a new assistant for the shop. I'm really sorry..."

"Don't worry, Gin. I knew that you would only be here for a little while. I appreciate you helping me get things started. I'm sure I'll be able to find someone else to fill your place."

"Thanks, 'Mione. So I was thinking of a few names. What do you think of..."

"Oh, thank the gods," Severus muttered, as Lucius arrived.

"Well, Severus, I know I'm incredibly handsome and terribly suave, but normally you don't seem that pleased to see me," Lucius drawled as he slipped behind the opposite side of the table and reached for a wine glass.

"Don't flatter yourself." Severus leaned in and lowered his voice. "You just saved me from being subjected to overhearing the Weasley chit natter on about a baby."

"I am your savior then for sure!" He quirked his eyebrow and jerked his head slightly toward the two women behind him. Severus nodded and smirked.

"Pay up, Lucius!"

"Oh come on, Severus. That year's crop of dunderheads has been out of school for a year and two months. That averages down to a year."

"Don't try to out-Slytherin a Slytherin, Lucius. Pay up. You bet ten galleons that the Weasley girl would be knocked up within the year, and she wasn't."

Lucius pouted, but he dug in the pocket of his robe and counted out the heavy coins. The two men ordered and soon tucked in, deep in conversation enough to drown out the two witches behind them.

After the ravenous face-stuffing phase of the meal had passed, Lucius laid down his fork and primly dabbed his napkin at the already-clean corners of his mouth. Severus quirked an eyebrow, but Lucius settled back into the cushions and sighed contentedly.

"I haven't had pork shoulder spiced that delicately since last year's holiday in Cordoba!"

"Indeed." Severus tried to keep the impatience from dripping from his voice. "A most excellent repast. Now, I believe you had a business proposition for me."

"I did. I'm sure you've heard that Arthur Weasley's of a mind to mount a campaign for Minister of Magic next year." Lucius' lip curled in a snarl. "I, of course, have offered to the nominating committee a more than qualified alternative that will be sending him back to his brood and their glorified chicken coop with his political wings neatly clipped in no time."

"Who did you suggest? Weasley's a buffoon, sure, but after the War, he's a very well-loved buffoon."

Lucius chuckled.

"You always were a funny one, old boy. I meant me, of course. With you as my right-hand man, if you'll take me up on my offer."

"You?" Severus snorted against the rim of his wine glass. "You know it takes more than money to win over the hearts and minds of the unwashed masses, especially when your opponent's a war hero and you are most definitely not. Buying votes is powerful, but hero-worship trumps all. On the subject of all things preposterous, what use do you expect me to be? You know I despise politics, and with the start of term next month, I'll have my hands full trying to keep the dunderheads from incinerating the castle all over again."

"I don't know why you insist on staying on at the school. There are other potions masters in the world, you know, and you're no longer beholden to the old man."

"Hogwarts is my home, Lucius. You know this."

"Alright, alright, spare me the Gryffindorish sentiments. I just can't help but remember, back in the salad days of our youth, when you spoke of research. Your face used to light up at the thought, and with your complexion, that's saying something!"

Severus felt the honeyed tendrils of the patented Malfoy manipulation technique weave their way around him, but he couldn't help but lean in a little bit closer.

"Come on, Lucius, spit it out. What are you getting at?"

"Just think, my old friend. How much would you accomplish at the helm of the Department of Magical Research and Development? A damn sight more than herding children like cats around cauldrons, I'd say. Any decent potionmaker could do that. You were always destined for higher things."

Lucius smiled, letting the idea percolate through Severus' mind. Severus would provide the perfect counter to Weasley's war record. When Severus' history of risking life and limb as a spy for Dumbledore for years and the fact that he saved Saint Potter himself a couple of times during the Final Battle finally reached the public, the floodgates opened. People were enchanted with their newest dark and brooding misunderstood hero. As insufferable as that was, it would be a welcome bolster to Lucius' own less-than-admirable last minute loyalty swap after his much-checkered past.

"Damn you Lucius... I'll think about it, alright?"

"Wonderful, old friend. Wonderful!" Lucius rose, placed a stack of galleons on the table, and clapped Severus on the shoulder. "I see good fortune in the future for us, you and me." With that, he left like a king departing from his throne room.

Severus rolled his eyes and reached for the wine bottle. Leave it to Lucius to sweep in just when he thought he finally had his life settled.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

* * *

Hermione shifted on her stool, twisting her ring back and forth on her finger. She extended her arm out, fingers flexed up. There. It did look a little better from far away. She thought back to the proposal scene. She had to admit, Ronald had tried to be romantic. He had made reservations at a restaurant far beyond his means and insisted on picking up the entire check, despite Hermione's inheritance trumpeting away as the elephant in the room.

Honestly, Hermione would have far preferred grabbing a nice stew from the Leaky Cauldron or heading to the muggle chip shop on the corner of their street. The food at Saturnalia was top notch, course after course of tiny, elegantly-presented morsels, from an expertly paired charcuterie and confit plate to refreshing gazpacho to lamb so tender it fell apart with the slightest poke of a fork. Oh, and the deserts... The chocolate souffle that tasted like a little puff of angels breath and the softest, most buttery madaleines that any wizard or muggle had ever concocted.

There was only one thing that could sully such a decadent meal, and that was her erstwhile dining companion shoveling food into his mouth like the carefully arranged plates were construction sites and he a bulldozer. Even the expert waiters stopped and stared in disbelief.

Hermione knew he was going to pop the question from the moment he awkwardly stammered where their dinner reservations were. After dessert, Ronald stood, took Hermione's hands, and dropped to his knee, shaking. Hermione would have loved to be able to fondly recall the actual proposal speech he made, but he mumbled so softly she could barely catch one word out of every three. She was touched by the amount of work and money he put into the proposal night, though, and when he brought out the little velvet box, she nodded and kissed him sweetly, the dutifully delightful new fiance. Ron was a sweetheart, and for all his fumbling, Hermione knew she wouldn't be able to find a kinder, more innocently good-hearted man anywhere.

The bell at the shop door tinkled, and Hermione nearly toppled off her perch with the shock of it. In walked someone she hadn't seen since graduation.

"Hermione, are you alright there?"

"Oh yes, thanks. My head was off in space somewhere... Slow day." Hermione gave a sheepish smile. "Anyway, it's so good to see you again, Dean! And who is this?"

Dean Thomas grinned and nudged the young girl beside him forward.

"This is my sister, Marigold. She's starting Hogwarts this year, and I knew just where to send her for her first set of parchment." Dean winked. "Mari, this is Hermione Granger."

"_The _Hermione Granger?" she squealed. "You're my favorite, miss! I hope I'm in Gryffindor just like you!"

Hermione blushed and chuckled, completely taken aback. Nearly two years after the war, the fuss had died down to the point where she barely heard about it anymore. Well, Harry was still hounded quite regularly, but for Ron and Hermione, things had calmed. As relieved as Hermione was that the saccharine press inquiries had stopped, she found this little girl's admiration heartening.

"That's very nice of you to say, but I'm sure you'll do wonderfully wherever you get sorted."

As Mari buried herself in her supply list gatherings, Dean leaned against the end of the counter.

"It's really good to see you again! I've been off traveling around Europe with my footie club, but I promised Mari I'd be here to see her off to school."

"I heard you got picked up by Manchester... Manchester something?"

"United."

"Ah, thanks, sorry. But congratulations! That sounds so exciting."

"You look like you have a nice place set up here yourself. I bet you're swamped with the new crop of Hogwarts sprogs."

"Actually, no. To be honest, things aren't looking so good for me. You're the first customer I've had all day. I'm not even breaking even lately, and I have no idea why! I've researched the market values for everything I sell, competitively priced it all to beat even what Flourish is charging, brought in a bunch of novelty items, and... I just don't know what else to do! Oh Dean, I am sorry. I shouldn't be whinging to you about all this. I've turned our reunion into some dismal crack therapy session."

"It's okay, Hermione." Dean patted her on the shoulder. "I agree that it's damned weird though. Your shop looks great, and the location isn't bad. I think something fishy is going on, if you ask me. If the brilliant Hermione Granger is setting her mind to something, there's no way it could fail on its own."

Hermione blinked rapidly, clearing her throat.

"Thanks very much, Dean."

After she rung up Mari's supplies and wished them both well, she shook her head. Dean had always been friendly enough in school, but they had never been more than acquaintances. She couldn't help but wonder what opportunities for other friendships she might have missed out on by sticking with Harry and Ron all the time. Oh well, no time to dwell on the past when there was plenty to fret about right in front of her, she told herself. She hardly felt worthy of Dean's praise or Mari's looking up to her at the moment, that was for sure.

But what if Dean had been right about some sort of sabotage? She shook her head. She'd seen no damages or evidence of libel, so as tempting as it was to lay the blame for her failure on some external source, she had to resist the temptation. She just had to work harder. That was all there was to it.

* * *

Hermione jumped at the sound of the door shutting and looked up from her book to see a battered and bedraggled Ron plopping himself down in the adjacent armchair.

"Oh Ronald, you look terrible! What happened to you? Let me get you a pain potion or something."

"Thanks babe, but I"m not banged up too badly. Just a rough day at training. If you think I look rough, you should see Harry! He got the worst of it. We had to go against those bloody dummy giants again. I could use a stiff drink and some dinner though."

"Oh! I didn't realize you wanted me to cook tonight. You should have let me know earlier..." Hermione swallowed a nag. "Oh well. Why don't you go have a nice hot bath and I'll rustle something up for when you're done."

"Thanks, 'Mione." Ron kissed her on the cheek and limped off down the hall, stripping as he went. "I can't wait until we're married properly and I can come home to your cooking every night!"

"Wait, what—" Hermione spluttered, but by the time she could react, the bathroom door had already snicked shut. Hermione could only stand and stare at the discarded, muddy robes and clothes that stretched down the hall like a breadcrumb trail, with the piece de resistance, a pair of crumpled and questionable boxer shorts, still swaying from its perch over the door handle.

Every night? He wanted her to cook dinner for him every night? Who did he think she was, the magical secret twin of Delia Smith? Granted, Ron wasn't much of a dab hand in the kitchen himself, but he could at least fry a few sausages or make some pasta without burning anything, and she had imagined he'd pitch in some of the evenings at least. She sighed and forced herself to relax. She knew getting into this engagement that he was more on the traditional side, and he had grown up with the formidable Molly Weasley as his model of housewifery. She didn't mind cooking, really. It would be fine.

She bent and began to scoop up the discarded garments. Cooking was one thing, but she would definitely have to arrange a forced meet and greet between Ronald and the laundry hamper!

* * *

"Oh, for the love of..." Severus slammed his office door and stomped toward his living room fireplace. Sinking to his knees, he threw a handful of floo powder into the grate so hard that a puff of it rose to his face. He sneezed with such force his head rocketed into the now-green flames, and before he could even sniffle, his vision spun until he was looking out of a fireplace into the gloom of some abandoned classroom. He yanked his head out with a snarl. "Every bloody thing I try to do today is biting me in the arse! Just when I decide to kowtow to Lucius bloody Malfoy, and I can't even find anything to write the bloody letter on!"

He flung the dust into the fire once more, a tad more gently this time, and bellowed "Albus Dumbledore!"

"Severus, my boy!" Dumbledore peered over his desk. "How wonderful to see you pop up in my hearth. I just wanted to thank you for your generosity. Those lovely parchments you so kindly let me use were perfect."

"Generosity my foot, Albus. I granted no such request!"

"You are in a fine mood this afternoon. Why, didn't you get my note?"

"Yes. It was very kind of you to leave it on the shelf in the place of every last sheet of parchment I had left! I'm still trying to scrounge up enough idiot-proof potions to finish up the lesson plans for this term, and now I have to pile an extra trip to Hogsmeade on top of everything."

"Don't you remember? The shops down in Hogsmeade don't carry the weight you use any longer."

"Bugger. Now I'll have to go all the way to Flourish and Blott's in London!"

"Oh, I doubt they'll have it in stock either. It's rather out of fashion these days, the heavier parchment. Nowadays people use flimsier stock, closer to that wood pulp business the muggles favor. Perhaps you might take this is a sign that you need to move with the times, dear boy."

Severus snorted.

"So I'm supposed to let my standards slip just because everyone else can't be arsed to buy something decent then? Not likely, old man."

"Well, I wouldn't give up hope yet. I just remembered that I've heard talk of a new stationery shop at the other end of Diagon Alley. I think it's callled... The Golden Quill— I think that was it. I've been meaning to scope it out for myself, but you're quite right about how busy it is around here with everyone scurrying around preparing for September. I've heard they stock quite a range of specialty parchments and the like there, if the advert in the Prophet is anything to believe. If you wouldn't mind, while you're there, could you see if they have any of those purple and gold note cards I like? You know, the ones with the shimmery edges? I'm fresh out of those as well. Safe travels!" With that, Dumbledore gave a jaunty wave.

Severus' head vanished from the fire with a final harumph. Dumbledore twinkled and addressed his phoenix.

"Well, that went well. Or well as could be expecting considering it was Severus... How's that new nest of yours getting on?"

Fawkes trilled softly to placate his master and thank him, but his avian mind was intent on using his beak to shred up the last of the wonderful, creamy, soft new sheets of the stuff his master normally tied to owls. Why his master had chosen to give it to him instead, he didn't know, but he decided to tuck his head under his wing and nap now and ask questions later... Or never.


	3. Chapter 3

AN: I'm not sure of the exact math about the ages of those of the so-called "Marauder Years," so I'm guestimating Snape's age as 38 for the purposes of this story. I'm only mentioning that because there's a small reference to his age in this chapter.

* * *

Chapter Three

Hermione was just nudging a few already straight muggle Moleskines into nearly molecularly perfect alignment when Ginny burst in with a grin.

"How did your checkup go this morning?"

"It went wonderfully! Our little strawberry is ripening nicely."

"Strawberry?"

"That's our nickname for her. We can't agree on a name yet. Oliver wants something dreary and old fashioned, and I want her to have a fresh, modern name. He wants to name her Agatha, can you believe it? If he gets his way we'll have the gloomiest child in Britain! Oh, but never mind all that. I'm sure he'll come around eventually. I'll let him name the next one, if it's a boy at least."

"The next one? Merlin's pants, Gin, you're barely even showing with number one yet!"

"Oh, I'm not going to waste any time. I want all my children to grow up close together. And don't you give me that look, Hermione Jane Granger! If you so much as hint that I'm turning into my mother, I'll... I'll... I'll knock over every stack in the shop and mix everything together in a great big pile!"

Hermione pretended to swoon behind the counter and then placed her finger to her lips, winking.

"Good choice. Anyway, I have something to show you!"

Ginny's voice reached a register that Hermione had previously thought only dogs could hear, and she offered a pained smile. Ginny pulled something small and square from her pocket with a flourish and placed it on the counter. Hermione peered into the little black cube.

"You have to tap it with your wand, silly! Haven't you ever seen a wizarding ultrasound before?" Hermione shook her head. "Who knew that after all these years, that's what it would take to finally stump the 'Brightest Witch of the Age!' Don't worry. You'll have your own soon enough. Ron is a Weasley, after all!"

Ginny tittered and Hermione's smile felt pinned to her face with thumbtacks.

"Anyway, Aunty 'Mione, I am proud to introduce you to our very own Strawberry Wood!"

She tapped the little box, and a three dimensional projection hovered above it. Hermione cooed and aww-ed on cue, but honestly, she found it a bit unsettling. She would take a muggle ultrasound any day, one of those indistinct gray smudgy ones, where the doctor has to add little arrows so you know which bits are which. This one was giving her unsettling flashbacks of the specimen jars in Professor Snape's office. It was definitely humanoid, but wrinkly and distorted, squished in by the walls of Ginny's womb, which, incidentally, Hermione could have gone an entire lifetime without seeing, thank you very much. Hermione felt like she had been transported to a carnival sideshow tent.

The shop door's bell jingled.

"A customer!" Hermione called with a little too much glee. "I mean, ahem, I think I just heard a customer."

"Bugger, it's him!" Ginny banished the floating image and ducked behind the counter, scuttling hunched toward the store room in the back. "He and I did not end on good terms," she hissed before she disappeared.

"Erm, alright then..." Hermione muttered, before she pasted a welcoming smile on her face. She was an adult now, two years out of school, and an entrepreneur to boot, and she refused to let this man treat her as anything but an equal. Even so, she took a fortifying breath before she spoke.

"Professor Snape! What can I do for you?"

She resisted the temptation to add that it was good to see him again. Confidence was one thing, but deliberately baiting the man was quite another. There was a fine line between Gryffindor courage and plain old stupidity!

"Bloody insufferable old man. Does he think my office is his personal supply closet? And of course he would be the one to bitch at me about not having every lesson for the term all tarted up and ready for his..."

Hermione cleared her throat. She was floored, to say the least. The Severus Snape she had known two years ago would have noticed her, mapped out every entry and exit point in the building, scanned for jinxes and traps, cast personal wards, and crept in silently with a whispered _silencio _on the door's bell before she even glimpsed his shadow.

This incarnation of her former teacher still wore the same sweeping robes, but as she took the opportunity to study him while he flicked through her wares on the front tables, she noticed that he looked different as well. His face used to be so angular that she could have chipped marble with his cheekbones, but now he looked a little... Well, softer wasn't really the word for it, especially with his angry mutterings, but healthier at least. He looked like he finally started getting a few square meals into his belly every day. His hair was different too, still showing signs of hanging over a steaming cauldron day in and day out, but no longer as lank and limp as it used to be. Hermione smiled. Peace was good for Snape.

"Miss Granger. Of course this had to be your shop! Bloody typical!" He had smacked two packs of his preferred writing stock down in front of her while she was lost in thought.

"Oh!" It was Hermione's turn to jump, and she hated to seem flustered by the man. _You're an adult now, Hermione. Act like it. _"Good afternoon, Professor. Will this be all?" She gave him a clipped little smile and stared pointedly at his coin purse he had plopped up on the counter as well. "That will be three galleons even, if you please."

"Hrmph."

Severus handed the money over, but one of the heavy gold coins hit the edge of her hand and bounced off. It hit the counter with a plonkand rolled off, spinning on its edge on the floor for a second before coming to rest right behind Snape's heel.

Hermione almost twitched from suppressing the instinct to scurry over, snatch it up, and grovel in her apologies. She gritted her teeth. If he was so out of it to not pay enough attention to her wide open hand, he could get it off the floor himself. A quick _accio _would do the trick.

He looked her in the eye and raised an eyebrow. She bit her lip, but she remained strong.

"Would you mind getting that for me, sir?"

Severus knelt and bent to reach down.

"No! No, I meant to use your wand!"

But Severus was already too far gone. With a hiss of pain, he toppled backward, landing hard on his behind. Hermione just about sank to the center of the earth, she was so mortified.

"Professor!" She dashed over to help him up. "I'm so sorry! I didn't think that you would—"

"You didn't think, Miss Granger. That much is obvious. Now quit flapping about me like a mother hen. I have a cursed leg. I'm not an invalid!"

Hermione flinched and withdrew, wringing her hands. It wasn't like she had forced him to not use magic! And how was she supposed to know that that parting shot from Bellatrix Lestrange still bothered him? After the Final Battle, he disappeared. She hadn't even seen him in the hospital wing getting treated, let alone at the celebrations in the months afterward. And plus, he had walked into her shop just fine.

"If this is the way that you go about customer service, it's no wonder that your shop is empty!" He pulled himself up holding the edge of the counter.

Hot tears filled Hermione's eyes, and she blinked them back with a vengeance. Leave it to Severus Snape to know just where to stab her where it would hurt the most. She would put money on it that he had a sixth sense for doing that.

"I'm really sorry that happened. Please consider using your wand next time. Is there anything else I can get for you?"

Severus gave a curt "No thank you," and he gathered his purchase and stalked out of the store without a word more. Hermione groaned.

"What the hell was that all about?" Ginny popped her head out. "Is he gone?"

"Thanks for leaving me all alone out here!"

"Well, I thought seeing him would get him riled up even more. I, erm, may or may not have blown up a cauldron during the last class before N.E.W.T.s and nearly gassed the entire dungeon with toxic fumes."

Hermione rolled her eyes, and Ginny rushed off to straighten everything that Snape had pushed around in his search.

"Hey Gin? I'm not feeling too great. Would you mind the shop for me for the rest of the afternoon? I need to get my head together for tonight. You know I love your mother to bits, and she has been more than wonderful to me all these years, but tonights for celebrating your dad's campaign and..."

"Yeah, I know. You'll get the 'Why don't you finish up playing around with this silly business venture so you can settle down and be a good wifey!' speech. It's okay— she's my mother. I'm allowed to go there!" Ginny laughed. "Merlin knows I would anyway. What I wouldn't do for your patience. Now run along and take a hot bath or something. I'll be find here." She flapped her hands and shooed Hermione out.

* * *

Severus sipped his fourth scotch and water slowly. The first three had done their job to numb him well enough, so he could afford to actually enjoy this one. Plus, he had plenty of entertainment to go with his drink, after all. He pulled a footstool toward him and propped up his feet. It had only taken until the bottom of the second to come to the conclusion that everything that had gone wrong today was Miss Granger's fault, and the third one served to take care of the lingering twinges in his thigh muscle and his pride.

"Severus! I know you're in there! I know you're in one of your sulks, but I need to have a word with you! We had an agreement, and breaking one's word this quickly is a feat, even by my standards!"

A muffled explosion sounded, and Severus smiled a little.

"Severus, don't make me bash my way in! You know I'll do it, too!"

Oh, Severus knew alright. The barrier he had conjured over the fireplace wouldn't stop Lucius for long. All Severus had wanted was to delay the arrogant sod while he finished his liquor. It wasn't out of spite or taking out his frustrations on someone else, oh no. Severus Snape was above all that! This was just expensive scotch, that was all, aged in the barrel for three decades. That was over three quarters of Severus' own lifespan. You had to do a liquid like that justice.

A shower of magical sparks shot into the center of the room, and Lucius' head popped into view. A few of his normally impeccable blond hanks were plastered willy nilly onto his pale forehead with sweat.

"Oh for fuck's sake, Severus! Are you sloshed already? It's five o'clock on a bloody Tuesday, and we have work to do!"

Severus grinned with too much teeth and raised his glass toward the hearth in a mock toast.

"Arg, it's hopeless. You're hopeless! I'll be back on Thursday, and you had better be as bone dry and sober as the day you were born, Severus, or our deal is off!"

Lucius yanked his head out of the grate and snarled. His old friend could be so childish sometimes. And especially now, to have him stropping about with everything Lucius had to arrange! Winning an election was tricky business, even for a Malfoy. He hauled himself to his feet, smoothed his hair with his fingertips, and brushed off his robes. After a final check in a large, gilt-framed mirror to the right of the fireplace, he stalked out of his study and down the long, plushly carpeted hallway. He needed a drink of his own, only one glass since he had some class unlike Severus, and a fine brandy was calling his name in the bar in the salon.

"Oh, Margaret! You don't say! And then what did she do?"

"Well, I wouldn't want to ever be accused of being a gossip..." A roomful of giggles erupted. "But I have it on good authority that she slept with the entire Bulgarian national team after that!" A chorus of pointed gasps and indulgent well-I-never's followed right on cue.

"I'm so glad you mentioned this, my dear. You're quite right. I wouldn't want any of her parchment after that. I might catch a disease from just writing a letter!"

Lucius rolled his eyes and paused outside the door. Of course— Narcissa was holding her weekly court with the pureblooded society ladies. How could he forget? He was so busy with the campaign, he forgot to do his usual disappearing act. In any event, brandy would have to wait. If he could just sneak away, he could make it back to his study before...

"Oh, Lucius, darling! Be a dear and come in to say hello."

"Ladies." Lucius swept into a genteel bow as he crossed the doorway's threshold just enough to be technically considered inside the room. "What are we discussing this evening?"

"Oh, just some rather... unfortunate choices some of the, ahem, less than fortunate in our community make. I mean, we must never judge, but if I were you, I would continue to get my parchments at Flourish and Blott's like always. We've heard some less than savory things about the proprietor of the Golden Quill, more's the pity."

"I see. Well, I'm gratified that I can always count on you lovely ladies to safeguard my moral fortitude! If you will excuse me, though, I have some work I need to catch up on. Good day, ladies."

On the way back to his study, after congratulating himself on his quick escape, Lucius felt the gem of an idea bubbling up in the far reaches of his brain. By the time the catch on the intricately tooled walnut double doors clicked shut, he was grinning a feral grin. This might just be crazy enough to work!


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

* * *

Hermione stomped her way up the flight of stairs and burst in through the apartment door.

"Don't say a word, Ronald. Don't even think about saying a single thing to me. I just want to go and sit for a bit without anyone else talking at me!"

"'Mione, babe, let's talk about what happened. You know that underneath all that, well, my mother-ness, she's got some good points."

Hermione stilled her feet, but she remained with her back turned toward Ron.

"I'm sorry, what?" she murmured in a deceptively calm voice. "Would you care to add an explanation to that statement?"

Ron gulped and edged toward the door. It wasn't that he was scared or anything, but auror training definitely emphasized being close to an exit when dealing with an unpredictable situation. It was just good practice, that was all.

"Well, you know how traditional wizarding society is. I mean, even with the War and everything, dad's still going to have a lot of people looking down on him because we're not all stuck up about blood nonsense. We can't have anything radical going on in the family. It'd just give the snobs mud to throw on his campaign! I mean, look. Bill and Fleur are happy together, and she's pregnant again. Even Fred and George have settled down with those cousins from France. I hear that they're both due any day now. And with Ginny's news tonight, well, dad's set up to run a very family-focused campaign here. That will go a long way in satisfying the people who buy into that sort of thing."

"And a witch running a business is considered radical enough to besmirch your father's platform?"

"Well, yeah. I'm sorry, 'Mione. I know your business means a lot to you, but in all fairness, it hasn't been doing too well anyway. Ginny told me you've barely had any sales all month! Didn't you take any of her words to heart? I told her to have a chat to you about maybe saving the rest of your money for when our first little ones come along."

"That was your doing, was it?" Hermione slowly turned around on her heel to face her fiance.

"Come on. You knew I wouldn't be making much for a while. I went along with this shop though because I knew how much you wanted to try your hand at it. But being smart about business means also knowing when to quit, baby. Plus, we have family to think about, both with my dad and with the one we'll be starting in a few months when we tie the knot."

Ron attempted a smile and stepped forward to wrap his arms around Hermione. Hermione didn't move. Ron figured that he already had his foot in the door as far as softening her up. She was the smartest woman he had ever met, so he knew that his voice of reason would percolate through her stubbornness soon enough.

"It'll be okay, you'll see. As soon as I move up a little in the aurory ranks, we'll have more. I want to take care of you, 'Mione. I want to take care of our family. Plus, you don't want to let Lucius Malfoy get any footholds, do you? Imagine a world with Malfoy as Minister of Magic!"

"Imagine indeed," Hermione bit out around a clenched jaw. "The funny thing is, Ronald, I can. Malfoy is at the very least a known quantity. We can be certain that he's going to be corrupt in favor of purebloods and all that rot. And the more I think about it, the more I'm confident that I can find a way to deal with it. I've been fighting discrimination about being a muggleborn ever since I got my Hogwarts letter nine years ago. What I don't know if I want to fight, however, is a patronizing, patrician attitude of a 'family' minister who thinks that women need to be 'taken care of,' who thinks that it's unseemly for a woman to work outside of the home and to want more than just to cook meals and have babies!"

Hermione shouldered her way out from his embrace, and he let his arms fall like limp noodles to his side. His jaw dropped.

"Yes, I figured you would look surprised at that, Ronald. The entire time we've been out of school, and even more since we've been engaged, all you've done is talk about how things were going to be once we've 'started our family.' You've done all the talking and none of the listening. Have you ever once stopped to ask me if I _wanted_ to do all the cooking? Have you ever paused before you chucked your pants on the ground and thought that maybe I wouldn't swoon in a wave of domestic bliss over the sheer privilege of getting to be the one to walk them ten damn steps over to the hamper? And most of all, never once have you asked me whether or not I even want to have kids!"

Ron paled enough that every freckle stood out as if she had thrown a handful of pennies on a white sheet.

"Yes, that's right. You just popped this ring on my finger without bothering to even get to know what I really wanted to do with my life. Well, do you know what, Ronald? I've finally decided to stop waffling and own my feelings, so I can thank you at least for that. I don't want to be pregnant. I don't want to go through the agony of giving birth. I don't want to run around chasing toddlers. I don't want to deal with snotty teenagers. I don't even like being around kids! I don't even think that they're cute! I want my life to involve work, travel, research, and yes, family. But children do not a family make. Love makes a family, love and _understanding_ between two people. And frankly, if that's not good enough for you, I'm sorry to say that we're through. I've been biting my tongue for a while, but I can't anymore. I'm sorry, Ronald. I really am."

"Wha-" he spluttered. "But-"

Hermione turned and walked toward the door.

"I'll be over to collect my things and give you my key tomorrow. I'm going to bunk up in the little flat above the shop for the time being."

"Wait, Hermione! Don't do this! You'll be happy with a life with me, I promise. You'll see. Just give it a chance, 'Mione. I know you aren't crazy about kids, but it's different when they're yours. How will you know that in twenty or thirty years you won't look back on this and regret, and wonder about the life you could have had with me?"

"I'm sorry. That's a chance I'll have to take."

"Typical. This is just bloody typical! Just because I don't talk about your boring old books all day long. No wonder you were always such a cold fish anyway! You can't love anything that isn't made of paper and ink, Hermione, just face it. I tried to change that. I tried since we were bloody children to open up your heart. Now I know that it's impossible! I guess this is a good thing, huh? I guess-"

Hermione shut the door.

"-you're giving me the chance to go find a real woman! Thanks a lot!" Ron shouted to penetrate the cheap press board and still reach her ears.

Hermione wanted nothing more than to sink down onto the top step and sit very still for an eternity or two until she was all dried out and couldn't feel anything anymore, but she willed herself to put one foot in front of the other. She made it to the small courtyard behind the building and collected herself enough to apparate.

She missed her target slightly and ended up sprawled on the ground two doors down. Tears sprang up, boiling hot and most unwelcome. She dashed the back of her hands over her eyes, hard, removing the evidence as fast as it coursed out. Somehow, she made it to her feet and safely past her front door under the cloak of the evening's darkness and thanked her lucky stars that she hadn't splinched herself. That horrid bell jangled out an insultingly cheerful chime when she kicked the door shut, and she whipped out her wand, sending a blasting hex to reduce it to a coppery dust.

She sank to the middle of the floor beside the small mound of had-been-bell and wrapped her arms around her knees and keened, a quiet, high-pitched, constant moan, interrupted only rarely by a shuddering inhalation. Sometime during the night, she finally quieted and dropped to a fetal position and a fitful sleep on the small comfort of the smooth, cool flagstones.

* * *

Lucius scanned the letter one last time to assure himself that the words penned in perfectly flourished cursive were absolutely right. In politics, a little bit of double-checking could save a lot of egg on one's face later, as he knew all too well. This principle was silver, so to speak, under the most important golden rule of running for office: the sincere-sounding apology.

_Miss Granger,_

_I understand that you must be more than a bit surprised to be hearing from me, and I hope this letter finds you well. I must congratulate you on beginning your business endeavor in Diagon Alley. I have full confidence that the "brightest witch of her age" will know no bounds to her success. I would also like to extend my genuinely heartfelt regret for any anxiety I caused you or any of your friends during your school years, and I can assure you now that I am a changed man— changed for the better._

_On the note of change, I humbly request a meeting with you, to not only extend my apology and good wishes in person, but to also discuss a proposition that I feel would be in the best interests of both of us. I hope you don't mind that I have taken the liberty of reserving a table at Saturnalia for this Friday at noon so we can speak over lunch._

_Best wishes,_

_Lucius Augustus Malfoy_

There now. Perfect! He secured it to the outstretched leg of his owl and guided the bird out the open study window.

"Take this to The Golden Quill, Magnus. I daresay Master Ronald would not take too kindly to this arriving at home!"

Now all he had to do was relax with another snifter of that delicious brandy while he waited for his owl to return.

He scraped his finger around the circle-shaped edge of another bound-up (and impeccably proof-read) scroll as he brought his crystal glass to his lips with his other hand. In a matter of minutes, the fluttering of wings on the sill prompted him to rise again.

"Well done, Magnus. Take this to Hogwarts and deliver it to Severus Snape in the dungeons. Peck at him until he opens it and actually reads it. It would be just like him to toss it on his desk and forget it if he's still sulking. When you get back, I'll reward you with a proper treat."

Magnus made a soft almost-purr and butted Lucius' wrist with the smooth upper part of his beak. Lucius let his lips curl into a small smile. He had to keep up the snake theme for appearances' sake, of course, but he had had a weak spot for owls since his childhood. His first owl had also been his first friend, after all. Growing up as an only child in the large and drafty Malfoy manor was a lonely undertaking without a pet, to be sure.

He watched Magnus wing his way into the night until the night sky swallowed up the white feathers, and he snorted into his brandy. Friday lunch would be an interesting experience indeed... That is if he survived it!


End file.
